The Fallen
by rightxhere
Summary: [Zoobabies] Even in a dream, she took his breath away. So, for that matter, did the events of the night past. Part One.


**Title:** The Fallen 1/4  
**Author:** Demelza  
**Fandom:** CSI New York  
**Disclaimer:** CSI New York and its characters belong to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS and its other owners. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission purely as a means of entertainment.  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Rating: **O15  
**Warnings**: Violence, language  
**Word Count:** 906  
**Summary:** Even in a dream, she took his breath away. So, for that matter, did the events of the night past.  
**Note:** Story is set in season two, and the first and most of the upcoming second part were written long before the season three spoilers had begun spreading all over the net.

Danny had never dreamed about her before tonight. Somehow, though, Lindsay and her beautiful smile had crept into his subconscious mind. She had stood at his side, laughing at some stupid joke he'd said. With her rich brown eyes and soft auburn hair – and smelling like early spring honeysuckle – her cheeks had radiated with a joy that had resonated through every fiber in his being.

Sitting in his armchair, he wore dark green pajama bottoms and nothing else. A small smile formed on his tired face. Even in a dream, _she took his breath away_. So, for that matter, did the events of the night past.

The memory forcing his smile to fade, his breath caught in his throat as he remembered.

_The cold steal pressed hard against Lindsay's head, Danny had held his open hands in the air. They'd been standing like this for less than a minute, but it had already felt like an eternity. He'd watched painfully as Lindsay clawed at the arm that was around her throat, the man's hand gripping her shoulder, and he saw the tears shining in her eyes, the ones she was so desperate to shed._

_His hand gripped her shoulder again and when she whimpered, Danny winced. "Y-you tell that son of a bitch that if he comes in here, I'll shoot her! Do you understand me? I'll shoot her!"_

"_He won't," Danny promised, swallowing hard as Lindsay cried out. "They know not to, now just...just put the gun down, please..." He was trying to remain calm, but the last word – _his plea – _cracked with emotion._

"_My life," the man said, clenching his jaw in an attempt not to cry. "I gave the department _my life!"

"_And you did good, you did the city good," Danny said. He motioned with his right hand, "But you need to put the gun down..."_

"_I caught thirty-two bullets for them! Over twelve years! And they...they took away my commendations! My pension!"_

"_And you didn't deserve that. But doin' this...? Holding my colleague hostage...? It isn't gonna get your commendations and pension back."_

_The man, an officer of twelve years out in Brooklyn, held Lindsay closer to him, cried as he pressed a wet kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and Danny felt his own tears choke him. "This wasn't supposed to end this way..."_

"_It doesn't have to," Lindsay breathed, her eyes locking on Danny's, pleading with him._

"_It does," the cop whispered, "It does."_

_His arms aching from holding his hands in the air, his every want to cry weakening his muscles further, Danny's arms began to tremble as the cop moved the gun from the side of Lindsay's head to her throat. "N-no," he pleaded, the words catching in his chest._

"_I can't go back...I can't change the hands of time...I...I tried," the cop replied, the gun he held beginning to shake. "I tried...oh God, I tried..." Using his thumb, he pulled back the hammer of his gun, wedging it harder against Lindsay's throat, whispering, "God, forgive me..."_

_Danny's hands were freefalling when the cop shoved Lindsay away from him. She was falling into his arms, and Danny held her tight, gasping for air as the cop lifted the gun to his own throat..._

Danny exhaled sharply, the loud pop and the grisly sight that followed quickly vanishing from his mind. He had thought seeing Louie lying in the hospital bed, with all those tubes and wires hooked up to him, had been one of the hardest things he had been through in his life, but seeing the gun at Lindsay's head made everything pale in comparison. The one thing he didn't understand, though, was why.

His gaze shifting from the far wall to the coffee table, he sighed pensively, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He had no idea why he had felt that incredible rush, like everything in the world that mattered to him was being ripped away. It had felt like he had no control, and he couldn't deal with that. He couldn't accept it. Not then, _not now_.

His mind drifted back to his dream then. Even now he could hear her infectious laughter. He could see her face as she gave him one of those 'be serious, Danny' looks she was always giving him when he was goofing around. The thought, the _memory_ of her smile, the way every word she spoke made his head rush with a thousand different thoughts, not one of them making sense...it faded, and he saw her. He saw the fear that contorted her sweet face, the nickel-plated gun that was held to her head.

Shaking the images away, Danny exhaled heavily. He hated seeing her afraid. He couldn't - _he wouldn't_ let that image stick in his mind. She meant too much to him. She...

His lips parting, he shook his head once more, this time rising to his feet and moving to the bay windows behind the sofa. He had to get the feelings, if that's what they were, out of his mind.

They were colleagues. _They were friends._

With a pain-filled sigh, he went back to the same thing, to the feelings he'd had, _the feelings he still had_, after that dream. He also saw her face, _and all her fear_.

Slowly, he raked both hands over his hair, groaning aloud. "Get a grip, Messer."


End file.
